


If You Love Me, Don't Let Go

by itisunreal



Series: May I Have This Dance [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Team to the rescue, and gets told off, coulson says stupid things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-08-21 05:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16570493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisunreal/pseuds/itisunreal
Summary: He lied. He'd lied for so long, and now there was no time at all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You said Coulson wasn't dying in the last installment, but we've determined that's a lie. But in my defense, I didn't lie about no space.

Things go downhill quickly once they step off the Zephyr. After he’s lied for months about being fine, healthy. After promising Daisy he wasn’t dying anytime soon. Promising her. Them. All of them. He waited so long. Too long.

They could have been there so much sooner, should have been, while he still had good days in front of him. But when they'd spoken to Simmons, she'd said days, weeks if he was lucky, but it felt more like a formality. Days is a stretch, weeks are…unobtainable. They’re well into the final act, and he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to waste away slowly over time. Doesn’t want her to see it, doesn’t want to live it. And she feels all the more selfish wanting as much as she can possibly have with him, even if the time spent is time he’s rather not have.

They’d had plans stepping off the plane, leaving behind their team, their family, but this close to the end things change, plans get left on the wayside.

She blinks slowly at the horizon, stars winking out with the growing clouds. Her eyes burn; she hasn’t slept in the days they’ve been here. Can’t seem to let her eyes close even when he’s right beside her, breathing steadily, lost in dreams. She can only lay there, her head on his chest, listening to the dwindling beats of his heart. It’s a comfort really, letting her know he’s still there, but that comfort brings no relief, no rest. Only reminds her that time is short, that soon she’ll lie there with her head on a pillow, listening to the rhythm of the ocean instead of the pulse of his life.

There’s no air when she thinks about it, nothing left to fill her lungs with, so she removes herself. Sits on the beach, and digs her feet into the cool sand, letting it ground her as best it can, keep her afloat when everything is pulling down.

It’s not enough though. It never is.

She hears him behind her, dragging his feet in uneven steps. He should be asleep. He needs to be asleep, because if this- If he has this burst of energy, is up, rallying...it means- He should be asleep. He doesn’t have the steam for such adventures. For any adventures, big or small, and he can’t… This can’t be the day, she won’t allow it.

It’s sooner than she wants, and longer than she expected.

He needs to go back in, she isn’t planning on being much longer. There’s just no way to decompress here, constantly surrounded by signs that he’s leaving, fading, going where she can’t follow yet. She had to do something, couldn’t risk exploding on him, and she’s so close to that edge, and this… She isn’t ready.

But then again, she won’t ever be.

Hastily wiping at her eyes, she hopes he doesn’t see. She won’t burden his last day...s with this. Breakdowns are for later when she’s alone, and the world is closing in. Right now, her only job is to be his strength. She’s supposed to be unbreakable, to console, and alleviate fears, but it feels like she’s been dropped off a ledge, and she just keeps falling, no ground in sight.

So, she hopes he doesn’t see, but he always manages to, always has. Bastard.

He groans plopping down beside her, and rocks, bumping her shoulder like he used to when they were still practically children. What she wouldn’t give to go back if even just for a moment. “What’re you doing out here?”

There’s nothing about the question that should set her off again, but tears burn and build behind her eyes anyhow, and she looks down, away, letting her hair fall like a curtain over such a pitiful act. She’s better than this. And she’d hold it in, all of it, until it festers and boils under her skin if she could, but it’s been buried in her chest since he collapsed, since he said it out loud and broke them. This is just the bomb releasing, an unplanned detonation.

He rubs his hand along her shoulders. She’s rigid next to him, not giving an inch, unwilling to accept the support he offers. The decision’s made then as he pulls her to his chest, cradling her there. She doesn’t relax any, just sits as an unmoving wall against him. He gets it. He does. The need to hold yourself so tightly together you will not – cannot – break. He’s watched people he loves fade away until they are nothing but wisps and ash. It isn’t easy, and he knows she feels like she has to be a rock, this immovable force that nothing has an affect on; for him, for herself, for the team they’ve left behind. She can handle just about anything, but this is fracturing her. She’s splintering, and he sees it. His lies. His stubbornness. It'll break her. And he won’t be there to help put her back together. Someone else will have to replace him as her confidant, to make sure her walls don’t get too high. His heart skips painfully at the realization.

She shifts, just slightly, wraps her arms around him, fingers clutching at his shirt like if she holds tight enough he won’t go. He should’ve done better, told the truth, told her the truth if nothing else. Those mistakes are so clear now.

Breathing deep, she shutters on the exhale. This isn’t the time to bring this up. It should be one of those things she let’s slide to the back burner considering...but she can’t. Can’t let it go. Can’t figure out his reasoning. And if she doesn’t, it will always sit in the back of her mind, driving her crazy until she’s in the ground beside him.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why lie about it? We could have found...we could have done something.”

Coulson sighs like he knew this was coming, was waiting for the exact night she could no longer contain. This was always going to be a conversation for the dark. He continues to brush his fingers through her hair, while he has the strength in his hands to do so. “Purely selfish reasons. I didn’t because I couldn’t watch you waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

She’s fixed again, unyielding beneath his fingers. Maybe he should have said something else, that he was trying to protect her from this pain for as long as he could, that he didn’t want to do anything to diminish the smile she’d found. But knows nothing he could’ve said will have helped this though. She wasn’t likely to take any of his other bullshit better, was never one wanting protection for herself. Offering it always, but never taking.

Pushing away from him is hard, almost as difficult as hearing that boneheaded reason, but she needs the space to keep going, to think clearly. If she’s to convince him to let them help. If he turns her down again, like he has every time so far. “The team is out there, looking...”

He shakes his head, stopping her. He’s already heard this before. “They won’t find anything.”

“If they do- When they do, will you-”

It’s a growl next, a bark as he cuts her off once again. “Stop trying to fix this, Melinda. Why can’t we just enjoy what we have right now?”

“Why won’t you let us have more than right now? We can fight this, Phil, if you let us... Please, let us. Please.”

“No.” He shakes his head slowly. “I’m sorry, no. You’ll spend what’s left of my time trying to find a miracle, and there isn’t one. Not this time. I know, I’ve looked.” He pauses, taking her limp hand in his. Threading their fingers together. If it’s supposed to be comforting, it’s not to either of them, but then again, neither is what he says next. “You can’t control this. This is my life, I get to decide. You don’t get a choice.”

“I never do.”

May removes herself from him completely, the first time she has in days, and his expression falls at her statement, eyes shifting between hers. He wishes he could refute the accusation, but the longer he thinks about it the more accurate the observation seems. She does everything for them without question or thought, and rarely is there a real choice in it. There hasn’t been a choice since Fury needled her back into the field, made her guardian of their little team. And the choices she does have control over, they limit by backing themselves into various corners. With movement restricted, alternatives are hard to come by, the course already set.

He reaches out to stop her once he breaks free of his thoughts, but he’s too late, she’s gone. If she’s smart, putting as much distance between her and his destructiveness as she can. Which, granted, isn’t as much as she’d probably like, they’re on an island after all. And even then she’ll be close enough to know if he needs help. She’s never far from his side.

There’s not much he can do out here. Stare blankly at the storm rolling in over the horizon. It’s a fitting metaphor. Lightning flashes in the distance, and if he listens hard enough, he thinks he can hear the soft rumble of thunder. The breeze washes over him, the tangy metallic taste of electricity on the air. There are so few nights like this left, maybe none. He feels so brittle now, so fleeting. Thin. Stretched beyond his limits. He’s waiting at this point, holding on for something though what he isn’t sure of. It can’t be her, she’s there, he’s with her.

It can’t be. But there are no special dates coming up, nothing he should be waiting on. He’s done all he can, and still he can’t rest yet.

Laying back in the sand, it conforms to him, and he lets his eyes close. He knows why she’s doing this. She feels the end on them just as he does, and to be left with nagging questions with no hope of answers is crushing. He doesn’t want that to be what’s left when he’s gone, but this will just hurt her. Has already injured, and he has no other answers for her. And if this happens to be the last conversation he has with her, he’ll hate himself. Maybe he already does a little. Maybe he’s still here because he deserves to suffer for all the hurt he’s caused.

 

* * *

 

He must have dozed off because he’s being shaken to consciousness. And when he finally blinks himself awake, his eyes burn, eyelids longing to fall back down. He’s so tired, but all he’s done is sleep, and sleep, and sleep. Forever winking in and out.

The storm’s moved further in, closer to his shore. He needs to get up, go in, but he’s tired, limbs lead. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad place to die, soft sand and a torrent of rain.

Eyes closing, he tries to wave her off, he’s all right with this, it’s all right. But she is relentless, hauling him into a seated position. Lungs heavy in his chest, he works to keep the panic from welling, from her seeing. It’s the same every time he wakes, but he thinks he’s done fairly well in keeping it from her.

Under his arm, she hoists him up, and into their tiny, single-room house. Even when he hurts her, she’s still gentle, lowering him softly to the bed. Despite the fatigue, he keeps himself upright, their conversation far from done, and he can do – will do this for her. She’ll have more to say anyway, she always does, the real trial will be getting her to voice it.

His trick is a simple one though. He waits. Just waits as she sits on the arm of the chair across the room from him. The distance is daunting, it’s the most space that’s been between them in – he can’t remember how long.

She stares, the silence spreading out, filling their home until they are deaf to the outside world. But it takes less time than he thinks it should have before she gives in, cracks.

“It wasn’t fair to just decide that this was it. You haven’t even tried.”

Finally she says what she’s been meaning to the whole time. How could he do this without her? To be honest, he’s a little shocked he managed, that he held out so long. But how dare she think he didn’t try, that he would willing walk away from this, from her.

“How do you know?” He’s so tired, but there’s a bite of anger in the question.

“I was there, Phil.”

“I tried. I looked. Called in every favor, talked to every contact, but there was nothing I could do.”

She holds tighter to herself. “It wasn’t fair.”

“When has this ever been about fair, Melinda? It wasn’t fair when Loki speared me through the heart. It wasn’t fair when Fury forced me back. It wasn’t fair when Ghost Rider insured my death for Aida’s. None of this has been fair, but I’ve already seen more life than I should have.”

“You think you went through those things alone, you didn’t, but this- This is different. You don’t make decisions like this by yourself, Phil. You make them with the people who care about you, who love you. Your family.” Her brows knit together, in the way they do when she’s holding back. “Why didn’t we get a say?”

“Because you’re not the one dying. I am. This is my life, I get to decide.”

“Your life.”

There’s a hint of bitter laughter at the end, and he knows the nerve he’s hit is raw, he can see it pulsing beneath her skin.

“You’re an idiot. It’s all our lives. The teams. Min- It’s-” She stops, looking away for a moment to gain her bearings. “It’s my life. You’ve been my life for years, and you just...you don’t just decide-”

It’s an effort to keep her eyes when she looks at him like that. “I know it is. I know, and you want some justification for why I didn’t say anything, and all I can say is...I don’t know. I don’t know why I couldn’t tell you.” He shrugs, his whole body heaving with the action. “I don’t know why. I guess I didn’t want to watch you labor under the weight of knowing.”

“You stole that time from me. I could have prepared. I could have been ready.”

“You wouldn’t have been. You wouldn’t. You can’t prepare for something like this, Mel. Even when you know, even when you see it coming, it’s still a shock when it actually happens. And until that time, it’s a burden. It-it clouds every moment, shadows every memory…”

“You think it would’ve been better to never tell me? That-that it would’ve been easier to wake up one morning with you just gone, no explanation?”

“No! No, I’m just- I just didn’t want to bury you under this. I wanted you to have memories that weren’t stained.”

“You didn’t get to decide that for me. I should’ve had a say in how we spent this time also. We were partners, Phil. You left me completely blind.”

“Were?” His brows pinch as he watches her, but she’s having none of it.

“Shut up. I’m just so...so angry with you. With how you handled this.”

He nods, closing his eyes as he sees her hands ball and fist then unclench. It’s quiet so long, he thinks she may have left him again, and he wobbles nodding off.

“Would you like to lay down?”

Her touch is light, tone calmer than before, and he nods, heart fluttering at the contact. “Sitting up, please.”

The fabric rustles behind him, and he almost tips at the relief of being able to lay back. And before he thinks it’s time, she hooks him under his arms and helps him back. He falls into the pile of pillows, no adjustments needed, and in a moment of hope, pats the bed beside him.

His shoulders drop, relaxing, as he hears the floorboard creak from her side, a smile spreading across his face. She snuggles in beside him, head on his shoulder. His voice is soft when he speaks, it’s all he can muster. “I’m ready to die if that’s what it comes down to, but that doesn’t mean I want to. Whatever you find...” She squeezes his arm, and he rests his head against hers. He can give her that, let her look, let her feel like she did everything she could to save his sorry life. He trusts her. She’d never do anything he didn’t want, even this.

 

* * *

 

When she opens her eyes, it’s late in the day. The sun set low in the sky, and she jerks up. No, no, she hadn’t meant to fall asleep, she’d needed to call. His breath rattles in his chest, in her ears. It’s then she knows why she’s awake as he struggles half under her.

“Phil?”

“Sorry.” The word is heavy, slurred, forced out by weighted lungs. “Up.”

He’s slid down in the night, laying almost flat, and she knows how he struggles to breathe then. Without reply, she’s out of bed, and on his side. Working her arms under him, she does all the work getting him up though he tries to help, but once up he aims to keep going, turns himself so his legs dangle over the edge. His chest jerks unnaturally with every inhale. And this once soothing movement isn’t comforting at all, the motion stinted.

Eyes stinging, she needs a minute, thirty seconds, just enough time to lash herself back together so she can shoulder this. The walls move closer with every blink, and she has to step outside, find some place with air. She just...she just- He sways as her hand leaves him, removes their support. Just as quickly she has a hold of him again. She can’t stay, but she can’t leave. But she- she can’t.

Stepping onto the bed, she sits. One leg hangs off the edge by his, the other’s bent to her chest. Settled, she pulls him back, props him against the wall she makes, and he relaxes, sagging against her, breathing easier.

Time is so much shorter than she’d thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to save the nerd.

It’s the middle of the night when Daisy’s jolted awake by the blaring of her phone. The ringer and brightness all the way up. May’s name flashes across the screen, and her gut clenches, eyes stinging before she’s even picked up. She thought there'd be more time.

“May? What happened? What’s wrong? He’s not- He’s not-is he?”

The silence is deafening before May clears her throat, and answers. _“No...but it’s-it’s close, Daisy. Whatever solution you have, now would be the time.”_

Jaw dropping, excitement and horror bubble together in a sickening concoction. “He agreed? He agreed! Holy shit, finally. We’ll be there in a couple of hours. Just hold tight.”

“ _Hurry. Please.”_

Throwing her blanket off, she’s on her feet, scrambling for the light. He agreed! When she hadn’t heard from them, she’d thought the worst, but May wouldn’t do that to them. However she convinced him doesn’t matter, it isn’t important. Just...thank god he saw reason. Her insides knot then, what if they’re too late?

Tripping over something, she pauses, collects herself with a breath. Her heart is still in her throat, stomach on the floor. No, they’ll make it. She believes they will, they have to. On her feet again, finding the light is a waste of time, and aims for where the door should be. 

Her hands hit the wall, and she pats further down on either side. Wall, wall, more wall. What the hell, the room isn’t that big, it shouldn’t be this hard to find a lone door.

Wall, wall, then wall with slight give to it. Not a wall then. This would have been faster if she'd just turned the light on.

Grabbing the handle, she pushes it harder than she has to, not caring when it loudly hits the wall, and bounces back slightly. She thought they had more time, that they’d have more figured out, be closer to promising results.

The walk from her room to Simmons’ is, like, four feet, but it seems like forever before she’s in front of it. Banging on the door, she realizes she doesn’t need to be so loud, but her nerves have the best of her, hands shaking as she raises them to knock again. But just as she’s about to, it opens; all the doors open. Oops. Whatever, they all need to know anyway.

Simmons stares blearily from her doorway.

“May called...” Daisy clears her throat, giving herself a moment to pull it together. “We’re coming down to the wire, so whatever you’ve got...”

Wiping at her eyes, the daze over Simmons clears quickly, replaced by thick apprehension. “I’m not any further than I was before, Daisy.”

“But-” Shoulders dropping, Simmons rubs at her face. “Come on, there has to be something we can do. Please.”

“I’ll call again. Surely, if anyone can help...”

 

* * *

 

Sitting in the kitchenette, Daisy picks at the handle of her mug, coffee forgotten as she waits for some kind of answer. They’ve turned around already, but being there won’t mean anything without a fix. Mack and Elena wait with her, their group whittled down to the four of them, and a handful of others. “I hope this works.”

Mack does that slow kind of blink, the kind he does before doling out unwanted advice and wisdom, and pushes his own cup away. “Look, Tremors, I know-”

Before he can really get into it, Daisy shushes him. She isn’t interested in what he has to say this time, and Simmons reemerges. They can do this, they have to. She’s not losing another family, and Coulson’s the glue, so they have no choice. This will work. It has to.

Simmons stops at the bar, but doesn’t sit. “One of the numbers finally got through. Dr. Banner answered.”

“Okay? And?” Daisy’s fingers tap along the cooling ceramic, nerves building again.

“He’s been missing for a number of years-”

“Simmons. Coulson. Dying. Point, please.”

With an irritated huff, Jemma sets her phone on the counter, and sits on the empty stool between them. “He doesn’t know if they’ll be able to help.”

“What, why? If this is still about that airport bullshit, then they can-”

Stopping the incoming rant before it has a chance to take hold, Jemma shakes her head, and swallows hard, lacing her fingers together. “Daisy, they’ve- Half the population is gone. Half the Avengers. He doesn’t know if they have the resources to spare or he would, he said.”

“Wait, what?" Her face scrunches at the ridiculousness of that statement. They'd know if half of everything was gone. "Half the population. Half of Earth just poofed out of existence? How? How does that just happen?”

“It isn’t just Earth.”

She pauses, eyes widening at the scope of her meaning. That’s just...that’s so many people, she can barely wrap her head around it. How would something like that even happen? She’s never known – met – anyone strong enough to pull off something like that. It’s just… It’s inconceivable. They'd notice something like that, something of that magnitude, wouldn't they?

Coming up for air is a struggle like everything else has been lately, but it hits her. “You think that’s what happened to Fitz, Piper?”

Jemma half-heartedly shrugs. “I don’t know, but it would certainly explain some things.”

“Like how they got off the plane.”

“Unseen. Mid-air.”

Daisy shakes her head, hands falling flat on the counter. “No, no, nope. This is... Put it on the back burner. If they can’t help us, we’ll do it ourselves. First Coulson, then everyone else.”

“I sent him what I could, he said he knows someone, that if anyone could save him, it’d be her. We’ll just have to wait. He’ll get back to us.”

“‘He’ll get back to us.’ This is time sensitive. We need an answer like...now,” she snaps. She doesn’t mean it, but anger’s easier than the hopelessness eating at her.

“Hey, take a break. Simmons is doing the best she can.”

Reaching across the small bar, she dumps her cup, dropping it in the sink noisily, and flops back into her seat. Daisy pushes against her eyes until she sees spots then let’s her hands fall, looking at Simmons. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be taking any of this out on you.”

They settle back into a tense silence, waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Waiting until the drone of the plane is an all encompassing buzz in their ears. There’s nothing to do besides that. It’s tedious at best, maddening at worst. But just before Daisy finally loses that last bit of control she has her hands on, Simmons’ phone jumps across the countertop, buzzing wildly. Wide eyes find everyone else, and she swallows as Simmons grabs her cell, and answers.

_Please, please, please, please please please please…_

“Hello? You can? That’s-that’s gre–“

Daisy doesn’t need anymore than that before she’s dislodged from her seat, bouncing, threatening to smother Mack and Elena in a fury of ecstatic hugs.

“Yes, yes, I can formulate it here… Thank you, thank you. It’s a small price. Not even a price really.”

It’s over almost before it began, and then Jemma’s off the phone, and Daisy’s finally managed to calm herself enough to get her thoughts straight. “This is amazing. I have to call May.”

Jemma’s smile is small, pleased, but not as enthusiastic, and Daisy stops, stomach falling.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. They think this will work. It’s not a permanent solution though, but it will buy us some time. They’ll continue to work on it from their end.” She smiles brighter then, trying to reassure. And that’s enough. They’ll have time now, they have time…

“How long will it take?”

“A couple of hours.”

“Get on it. We don’t have time to waste.” She’s not in charge anymore, but no one questions the order as she sends them on their way. Elena heads off with Simmons, willing to help if she can, but Mack stays in place, surely waiting to hand out what she’d stopped earlier. “Will you just say it before it chokes you?”

Pushing his mug all the way to the side, he sits up, folding his hands together. “Daisy...” It sticks in his throat anyway. He doesn’t want Coulson to die anymore than the rest of them, but when they mess with things beyond their understanding, it always bites them, one way or the other. Maybe it’d be better if they just let this play out naturally. Ends are always hard, he knows, he does, but they have to happen. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Do this, as in save Coulson? Cause it sounds like that’s where you’re going with this, and I’m not going to listen to it.”

“I am. We’re in this mess because we messed with a demon, Daisy. A demon.”

“To stop Aida.”

“Maybe we just need to let things set themselves right. I’m sorry Coulson is the price of that, but–“

Shaking her head, she stands, backing away. “Just stop. I’m going to pretend you didn’t say any of that, then I’m going to walk away so that we can still be friends when this is over.”

He sighs, nothing he says will get through, to any of them, he’s tried a million times before, so he leaves it. “Then you’ve got to prepare in case this doesn’t work. You’ve got to be ready to let go, let him go.”

“I’m not preparing for anything. It’s gonna work. It has to."

 

* * *

 

Despite the situation, the reason they’re all there, May seems happy to see them. Relieved, at least, comforted, maybe. It’s only been a few days, but seems like years almost. She leans in, whispering things they’ll never hear. There isn’t much of a reaction, the corner of his mouth ticks up slightly, or maybe Daisy’s seeing things, hoping to hard, she doesn’t know anymore. But if it did, there’s no other response, he doesn’t move from his place propped against a mountain of pillows.

She stays near the door as everyone else files in, half talking like nothing is wrong, half like it’s the last thing they’ll ever say to him. Standing there, now, she doesn’t know if she can go in. If this doesn’t work, this will be the last she ever sees of him, the last… Stopping, she shakes herself, if this doesn’t work, she isn’t really here for him anyway.

May looks exhausted as she relieves her position beside him, makes her way over.

“How’s he doing?” Crossing her arms, Daisy turns from the crippling sight, looks to May, faces her.

“It’s...it’s close. He’s been up and down for hours trying to breathe easier. The pain meds aren’t doing much.”

Nodding, Daisy wonders how she’s holding it together. She’s seen people die, lots of them, but watching it slowly happen day in and day out, is different. It takes a certain kind of selflessness to suffer that, to keep, and tend, and take care of with the knowledge there’s no reward at the end. That all that hard work ends in an empty bed, and an aching heart. She isn’t sure she could do it.

“How are you?”

She hesitates for a second, thinking of an answer or making one up, Daisy will find out which soon enough. “I’m– I– I’m fine.“

Ah, the sweet standard answer. Lie it is then. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”

“I don’t expect you to… It doesn’t m-”

There’s a change as they stand there. A shift in the air as she struggles to find what she means, as the quiet muttering behind them fades to nothing but a staggered, stinted breath. In that moment May’s alert, the exhaustion gone as she moves back into place without so much as a blink. The next breath doesn’t come easier, and the long stretches between each wheeze last forever. May takes his hand, folds it to her chest, and holds it there.

“Daisy...” May's voice is a wisp, muted and dim, but it snaps her out of this shattering sense of failure before they've even started.

They can sit and watch it happen, or they can do something about it, save his life. “Yeah, yeah, Jemma, here.” Taking the discarded bag from its place on the couch, she deposits it into Jemma’s waiting hands. She hadn't noticed her get so close.

This has to work, there’s no other option.

With a nod, Simmons has rummaged through her bag and is back beside the bed for the next inhale. The needle she brings with her is…large, scarily so. “Lay him flat.”

She says it with all the confidence in the world, but May seems less than convinced as she holds tighter to him. “He can’t breathe like that.

“I know.” Daisy and Mack move him down, and Simmons is grateful he’s in a button-up, it makes this next part less awkward, or uncomfortable, or… It’s not really any of those thing, he’s dying, and it’s to save him. Being watched by so many eyes has her nerves on end. Unbuttoning the top few, the amount of blackened, dead tissue is staggering, horrifying. Holding back a gag, the smell is atrocious as all rotting things are. It’s astonishing he’s made it this long. “If you’re easily queasy, please look away now.”

Lining up, she has to hit the heart, that’s what Banner told her. There’s no hope if she misses. No pressure, she nods to herself as she lines up once more. She knows what she’s doing, no need to be hesitant. Stabbing into his chest, she pushes the plunger down, releasing the thick serum into his system.

Slowly withdrawing the needle, they wait with bated breath, the quiet stretching, consuming. But nothing changes in the seconds after, and then the minutes pass one by one. And with no immediate difference in his state, the dread that spent days building in May’s chest doubles, the rattling of his lungs doing nothing to dissuade it.

“Let’s get him sitting up again.”

As they move to get it done, May finally speaks, voice hollow as she gently places his hand back on the bed. “How long until we know?”

“It might take a couple of hours–“

They step back as she nods, not hearing the rest, and pulls the covers up, tucking Coulson in. Done, and turning back, she pats at her pockets as if looking for something, gaze flitting past all of them. “You guys should get some rest. Have-have anything you want.” She moves toward the door with every word, and when she’s done, she slips out, leaving them alone in the shack.

They share a look, worry prominent in all their eyes as Elena asks, “Should we go after her?”

Dropping down onto the couch, Daisy shakes her head. If she’s learned anything over the years, it’s that they can’t push too hard, too fast; it won’t get them anywhere, and they’re likely to break something. “No. She’ll be back.”

In the end, she doesn’t wander far at all, down to the shore line she’d tried to find relief in just hours ago. And here she is again, stars shining bright overhead, but the night is calm, no storms on the horizon. Maybe that’s a good sign tonight. She could use some good news after all this. But then again, maybe it’s not. Maybe she didn’t change his mind in time, maybe whatever concoction Simmons used isn’t strong enough to repair that much damage. Maybe she’s been hoping too hard for something that was never going to happen. Maybe she’s always been destined to lose him.

There’s no air when she thinks about it. That this is all her life is: just take, take, take. That that’s all it will ever be, that everything she wants, loves, is given only to be ripped away in the end. That she’ll never be able to hold onto any of it. Any of them.

She stares at the horizon, eyes burning. The sleep she’s managed to find isn’t enough, it can’t put a dent in the debt she’s acquired. But she can’t go back in there and rest, can’t stomach the unsteady rhythm of his breaths, the gut-churning rasping. She’s been listening to it for hours, it’s trapped in her ears. She thinks she’s finally found her limit, where she finally has to stop, step back.

It’s a lie though. She’ll go back, push herself past this point, until she bends to accommodate it. Carry it with her other traumas until it becomes a part of her, until it changes part of her. It’s not what she aims for, it’s just how it happens.

Digging her feet into the cool sand, she let’s it ground her as best it can, keep her afloat.

But it isn’t enough.

She hears a body behind her, steady, even steps through the soft sand. It isn’t hard to figure out who’s finally followed her. Daisy’s never had the patience to wait her out. But she’d left them to rest, and she should have just left her alone. Still, it’s sooner than she wished, and longer than she expected.

She plops down beside May, slinging her arms over her knees. “What’re you doing out here?”

There’s nothing about the question that should set her off, and it doesn’t this time, not truly, just catches in her throat. Her eyes prickle behind her eyelids, but the tell-tale blur of tears is absent. She’s pulled so tight, she’s not sure she can feel much of anything at this moment. But none of this goes unnoticed, and May shakes her head at all of it, to clear away the lingering memories of the night before. They’re so similar sometimes, too similar.

If Daisy can just go back inside… She just-She isn’t planning on being out much longer. She’s just patching her fraying edges, one loose thread could unravel her, and it’s such a close thing right now. And this is too much like before for her to stomach. The memories of the fight she’d goaded him into settle like a weight.

But unlike before when she doesn’t answer Daisy keeps to herself, doesn’t shorten the distance between them. And she half wishes she would, she can’t bring herself to bridge this chasm herself.

“You know you don’t have to be strong for us. We’re here to help you.”

She keeps her eyes on the sky. “I can handle it.”

“I know. I’m saying you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I can handle it, Daisy. I’ve done it before.”

She says it so breezily, it causes Daisy to stumble, throwing her off for a moment, but she’s right. This isn’t the first time he’s died or even came close, she’s an old hand at it by now. But experience with something doesn’t always make it easier to go through again. Daisy suspects she knows that already though, that she can handle it, put on a show. It’s easier to hold it together in the presents of others. Grief hides easier in groups. “I know you can, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t take it’s toll, or that you should even have to. It’s a lot to do on your own.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, this isn’t something everyone would do or even think about attempting. It’s hard, often thankless work...”

“Please, stop.”

“Look, I came out here to let you know that nothing’s changed, but it’s up to you what we do next. If you think we should stop–“

It’s a second before she realizes what Daisy's said, then she scoffs, so similar. “It isn’t my decision. I don’t choose. I never choose.”

Brows crinkled, that sounds like something she should ask about, but packs away for later. “It is. Coulson can’t decide, and there’s no one he trusts more, and you know what he wants. So if this doesn’t work, you decide if we keep going or...let him go. We’re behind you, whatever you want. There isn’t a wrong answer either way.”

She’d wanted a choice, a say in what happened, but this-this is not how she wanted it. Her eyes sting again, whether it’s from a lack of sleep or tears or both is a toss-up, but she nods.

May doesn't say anything after that, just sits motionless, scrutinizing the skyline. Daisy stays quiet beside her until the cool breeze makes her shiver. “You ready to go back in?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to leave now? I know I kind of invaded.” It's only polite to ask, she did push her way in.

She shakes her head though, and shifts further down in the sand. “Just...sit with me a while.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

 

* * *

 

She jerks awake, eyes blurry, and looks toward the door. Nothing’s out of the ordinary though; nothing that should've woken her like that. The sun is just beginning to rise, and what’s left of their team is sprawled out over the sparse furniture. Jemma and Daisy are propped against each other on the shabby couch. Elena’s curled on a chair, legs hanging over the armrest, and Mack gave up at same point, finally deciding to sleep on the floor.

Then it happens again, that thing that roughly pulled her from sleep. That soft tug of fingers combing through hair. He’s awake. The butterflies in her stomach twist into a storm. She honestly didn’t think it’d happen, that this would work, that there was even a slight possibility. All of it just wishful thinking. And even now knowing it’s worked, that he’s awake, she’s slow to turn around.

When she does though, he’s smiling a lopsided grin, tired eyes hooded.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

His hand slips from her hair to her cheek, thumb brushing over soft skin. “Rough night?”

The bark of laughter is bleak where it should be light, he’s awake and talking and...and alive, but there’s no energy to it. The noise she makes is a blip of unamused sound, in the back of her mind knowing just because he’s up doesn’t mean he’ll make it. But she nods, a soft smile in place, if only for his sake, and leans into his touch. “You could say that.”

“You okay?”

Cradling his hand in her own, she presses a soft kiss to his palm. “I should be asking you that. Don’t worry about me.”

He grins drowsily as she continues to support his shaky limb. “No good," he says, like it isn't even a remote possibility for him. “Always worry.”

“How are you?”

He shuffles weakly on the bed, uncomfortable. “Hurts.”

“I know.” She holds tighter to his hand, and watches him breathe. His chest still jerks in a distressing way, but maybe it’s smoother than before. Maybe there’s more color to his cheeks. It’s hard to say, she can’t really tell. “You should sleep, there’ll be time to talk later.”

He nods, and pats the bed beside him, an invitation she’s willing to accept every time it’s offered, but there’s no point in dozing again. She’s sure, with Simmons next check, they’ll be leaving. Off to actually, permanently save his life, then the world. She crawls onto the bed anyway, sits high against the wall of pillows.

Once situated, she runs her fingers through his hair, and he makes a small noise of contentment. The happy sound clings in her chest, a smothering warmth that sends goosebumps along her skin, makes her tired eyes well. Still she smiles that there’s another chance to do something like this, time to be here with him. “You like that?”

“Itchy.”

“Oh.” Adjusting, she uses her nails, and lightly presses down. Gently scratching front to back, he groans again, and she repeats the motion. “How’s that feel?”

He rolls his head so she can easily reach the other side. “Nice.”

Going over his head once more, she stops thinking he’s fallen asleep again. Thankfully, she holds back a shutter as overwhelming relief finally rolls over her. The mixture is potent, alleviation and affection push past her cracked walls, a tear falling loose.

“What’s next?”

Startled, she clears her throat trying to sound as normal as she can, not planning on accidentally worrying him, he needs rest. “Simmons clears you...”

“Simmons?”

“And Mack, Daisy, and Elena. Do you remember when they got here?”

“Daisy’s here?”

She knows how hard it’d been to leave them – her – behind, but that he’d thought the less people to witness his demise, the easier it’d be in the aftermath. “Yeah, she’s sleeping. You can talk to all of them later. Go back to sleep.”

His eyes slips shut before he hums in reply, drifting off.

There’s another sound off to the side, and when she looks Simmons is standing there. She doesn’t know what she’s seen or heard, but Jemma’s gaze is as compassionate as always. “I know this has been hard, but this is a good sign. I think it’s probably safe to head out now.”

May nods, wiping at her cheek as she slips from the bed. Simmons, at least, has the decency to pretend not notice that as she starts checking vitals, rambling to herself.

“I’ll grab our things.”


End file.
